Quixote's Grill Broadway, Humboldt Farm Fish Wine

I forgot to photograph their carnitas burrito, smothered lettuce tomato, sour cream and guacamole. Endless soft drinks. Too much to eat at once so half brought home along with a milkshake. Their food looks like this.

They're a block away. One the way there at the corner an Arby's recently moved out. I was always a bit disappointed for the Arby's there. Okay, but not that great. A place called Torches reopened there and now the line for lunch reaches outside the building and wraps around the corner. It is an outrageously long line that occurred the moment the doors opened. Meanwhile there are two excellent Mexican family owned Mexican restaurants y que muy autentico. And that comes from not knowing, almost knowing enough. They could have great meals, great service, very reasonable price. 

Imagine an all-American boy, how he is dressed from hat to shoe, how he groomed, his hygiene, his fresh look and his good manners. Now imagine the boy Latino. That is who greets you graciously at this place. If not him then his mother. 

Except today. He shrunk by half. The exact same person shrunk to half size. And now an all-American boy fresh of face and gracious in manner and wearing the same clothes except half size. I act as if I'm not surprised.

The mother greeted me as if seeing an old friend. The place is half filled while half a block away people are still waiting in line outside in the cold for a lesser experience. The shrunken all-American Latino son is border obsequious to me while paying less attention to others. So is the mother. 

"Does your brother work here?" 


Being half the age of the teenage-looking son, this one looks too young to be working. His manners are impeccable. He opens up graciously. He tells me where his brother is, what his brother is doing and what his brother wants to do with his life, be a nurse. 

It occurred I had him taking about his older brother and not about himself. 

"Do you have an idea what you would like to do when you grow up?" I expected uncertainty.

"Yes, I want to become a plastic surgeon." 

This whole time I was expecting a goofier dumber version of his older brother but he shattered that misapprehension. I am genuinely surprised how sensible these two boys are. Both of them without any urging from adults at different times rushed wide around and ahead of me to beat me to the door to open it for me. Both came from behind the counter to race in front, at different times, the same behavior. 

The place is much darker than this inside. I made them show lighter and Photoshop shows them lighter still and I didn't stop it so that's twice lightened. I take responsibility for misrepresenting. The shutter is achingly slow. Open a second and it's just shaky me holding it.  The lens has stabilization but there is only so much that can do. 


Oh, they start out so proper and serious and are ever on the edge of fun. Right there at the edge. One trace of play on your part and it's game on. Everyone eager for fun. Everything that I read online about millennials is contrary to my own everyday personal experience. Millennials are beautiful and energetic and kind and gracious, and well brought up, and fun and smart and ambitious. And they do this bearing tremendous burdens and while facing up to the burdens of the world. They are everything you would want your own children to be.

I should add, this night, the happy hour crowed turned over to a younger dinner crowd. The table of people photographed was occupied previously by a group of middle-aged after work people, for example. 

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